


saturn

by worn



Category: Initial D
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blow Jobs, Child Abuse, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dick crushing, Dubious Consent, Father-Son Relationship, Father/Son Incest, Foot Jobs, Forced Masturbation, Frottage, Incest, M/M, Masochism, Parent/Child Incest, Physical Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadism, Sadomasochism, Sexual Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:20:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29837334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worn/pseuds/worn
Summary: bunta loves his son. perhaps takumi would be better off if that weren’t the case.
Relationships: takumi fujiwara/bunta fujiwara
Kudos: 3





	1. intoxication

**Author's Note:**

> this is based off having seen the anime, with quite a bit of inspiration from the live action film. i haven’t read the manga yet, but i’ve seen a few relevant pages.
> 
> mind the tags. triggering content ahead.

every night, bunta handed his son a cup of water to put in the 86’s cup holder and said lowly to takumi: don’t spill it. they both knew what would happen if drops of it flew out as takumi drove - the containers of tofu in the back of the car would shatter, soft as tofu was. takumi would always sass him and say, ‘i know’, but if he did - then there was no excuse.

it was the second time that takumi broke the tofu that bunta decided to teach him a lesson. the first time, he had let him off easy with just a slap on the face, hard enough that his son crashed against the wall and fell to the floor. he couldn’t make himself go any farther than that, his boy was so small then, just 13. takumi loved him a little less after it happened and bunta knew he deserved much worse from his son, but there was no changing the man. 

takumi should’ve known better by now. at 15, he was growing steadily: almost up to bunta’s shoulders in height and the baby fat in his face had sharpened a bit. he lost his cuteness completely when he started calling bunta his ‘old man’, and not ‘papa’ anymore.

“come here, boy.”

takumi wore a look of resignation on his face with a hint of defiance more than fear. his eyes were dark, almost cynical. it was enough to make bunta miss the innocent little child that takumi used to be, lecturing his father to pay taxes instead of drink beer with a nervous stutter to his voice. but now takumi thought he knew him too well to even hope for better, and bunta would only give his son more reason to think poorly of him.

takumi walked slowly over to the small table where his father sat on a cushion on the ground. he was seemingly trying to relax but his movements were stiff with nerves.

“sit down here with me. i’m going to show you something.”

bunta’s voice was perfectly slow and quiet, but not drunk in the slightest. he knew what he was going to do and his words were full of promise. takumi frowned at the way his body automatically moved to obey, knowing he was doomed whether he stayed or tried to run. that much was true and they both knew it.

when takumi sat down crosslegged in front of him, head lowered, bunta put his beer down and took the opportunity to run his hands across takumi’s shoulders. the boy flinched at first, but soon relaxed.

“i don’t want to hurt you, son.” surprisingly, that much was actually true. “but i’m going to teach you something right now and i don’t want you to forget it.”

bunta had exactly what he needed under the table, and he handed it to takumi: a bottle of lube. takumi took it and looked it over, mystified. he had probably not seen one before and hadn’t ever needed it.

“down with your pants, okay? put this stuff on your fingers and then stick one up your ass.”

he said it very simply and without shame. takumi went wide-eyed and wordlessly stared down at the bottle, then up at his father. his eyes seemed to say ‘are you serious?‘ but his mouth said nothing. bunta took a sip of beer at that gaze because, god help him, he was not a patient man.

“do it now takumi, or i’ll beat the tar out of you.”

takumi trembled at his words, his face conflicted, miserable, and humiliated, as he went onto his knees and dropped both his pants and boxers. his hands were shaking as he uncapped the bottle and pumped lubricant into his hands.

“that’s it. use more than that. you’ll want your fingers coated in it.”

bunta leaned over his son to watch a finger slide into his backside smoothly. it didn’t go in all the way, not yet, and takumi’s discomfort showed all over his red face.

“that’s right. push it in as far as it’ll go. then move it back and forth.”

takumi blushed all the way from his ears to his neck as he obeyed, almost certainly new to the intense feeling of having something inside him. he was still flaccid, but his dick seemed to stir very slightly at the thrusting in his backside. his finger made an obscene wet sound every time he moved it back and forth. bunta watched the scene play out before him, his cock already hardening in his pants.

this was depraved. it wasn’t like he didn’t know that. but even when takumi didn’t act cute, he did look it... his son was growing up to be a handsome little bastard. it didn’t seem like he knew that about himself, and bunta wasn’t one to let a good opportunity slip away.

“alright. now add another finger.”

takumi did as he was told, grunting at the feeling of being stretched out. bunta started stroking himself through his trousers, the hard bulge blatantly obvious. it wasn’t anything takumi hadn’t seen before; they had bathed together when the boy was still small, and well... takumi had stumbled on his father masturbating drunkenly in the living room before. many times.

“old man... it hurts.” takumi whined with his eyes clenched shut.

“of course it does. you have to relax your body, son. don’t tense up like that.”

takumi huffed like he was going to take a shit, before breathing in deeply and stopping his hand. he seemed to be trying to relax his muscles and waiting for his ass to adjust instinctually. bunta smirked; his son was so good at learning things physically. better than learning things with his head.

while takumi took a pause, bunta undid his belt and released himself from his trousers, jerking himself off languidly. takumi didn’t seem to understand the significance of this just yet, because he frowned in confusion at his father.

“takumi, i want you to touch yourself the same way i’m doing. at the same time, you should also do what i just taught you.”

bunta knew the pain would lessen once takumi’s muscles relaxed, and part of that process was to get him aroused. without being told to, takumi pumped some more lubricant into his other hand and wrapped it around his cock.

slowly, he worked himself up while thrusting two fingers in and out and suddenly let out a gasp of surprise.

takumi couldn’t seem to stop himself once he was aroused, fucking into one hand and thrusting back onto the other, panting and slack-jawed.

“feeling good now? look at me, takumi. watch me.”

takumi’s gaze lifted up to obey, watching his father beat off, frowning uneasily. he seemed pained in being forced to look at bunta’s cock, so much bigger than his, frighteningly so.

“takumi, if you mess up one more time, you’re getting this up your ass.” 

bunta’s voice came out deep and rough and quiet, but the house was so silent other than for their breathing and slick movements that his son couldn’t do anything but listen to it. takumi started shaking.

“and i’m not going to be gentle. it’ll hurt. you won’t be able to walk for a week afterwards. i’m going to do it over and over until you’re shitting blood. do you understand?”

tears streamed down takumi’s face in fear now. he grit his teeth and pounded into himself, watching his father’s cock thrusting into his own hand, as he let out a choked whine and spurt cum over his fist.

bunta reached a hand behind his son’s head, wrapping his fingers in takumi’s soft brown hair, and moved his face closer so that he could kiss him. he invaded takumi’s mouth as he sobbed, licking and sucking at his tongue gently. takumi was unresponsive but that was no surprise. bunta leaned down to kiss at his son’s neck too, cold and wet with tears. 

“don’t do it again. you know i don’t want to hurt you. you know i love you, ah— takumi—“

bunta came all over his hand with his son’s name in his mouth. takumi had calmed down from his exhaustion at this point, empty eyes staring at the wetness all over his father’s fist, then back at his own dirtied hands, as if not knowing what to do with himself.

bunta took takumi’s hand in his and sucked the cum off of it. it wasn’t the taste that appealed to him so much as the idea that he was consuming part of his own son and it was wrong, wrong, wrong. he wanted more of it.

“ah, no, old man— it’s dirty, don’t do that!“ 

he knew he didn’t deserve it but takumi was still concerned about him on some level. his son was too good. he was so proud of takumi for taking everything his father gave and still standing back up every time.

all bunta wanted to do was suck the cum off of him, and lick at his neck, and kiss at his mouth gently, so gentle as to make takumi forget the violence and suffering they shared for just a moment. with his mouth on his skin, no more vicious words would come out. and with his hands touching him all over, no more fists would fly. 

but the normal routine was as long as takumi did everything right, there would be no pain or pleasure. the second takumi messed up, bunta would be split between causing both. gentleness was a dream, an impossibility, when he’d have to be the one to cause the wound, then be tempted to kiss it better afterwards.


	2. microsleep

“takumi, you need to make the deliveries faster.”

takumi is usually bored enough on his deliveries that he challenges himself to make them more interesting - but months after the last accident, takumi’s driving has slowed in order to be more careful. he’s so far heeded bunta’s warning not to break the tofu again since then.

now bunta would ruin all that by pressuring him to go faster and faster. part of it is that any son of his needs to know how to drive mt. akina quickly; it‘s their legacy. and it‘s not like bunta wants to waste precious tofu or good business, but if takumi does break their merchandise again...

well, he would win either way. 

bunta gets a little bloodthirsty for his son sometimes and it‘s only happening more often lately. he would watch takumi eating in silence or lingering on the stairs and want to see him react to something overpowering. he would notice the way takumi’s hair framed his face and the way the muscles in his arms moved. something is building up inside bunta without control.

his son is both so handsome and so calm, bunta thinks it‘s just fun to see him emote sometimes, even if it takes making him cry. takumi takes after his old man that way, in that impassive expression, as well as in his stubbornness. what he got from his mother is merely her soft, light-colored hair.

when he hears it, bunta‘s command only succeeds in making takumi frown and pause in taking his empty dishes to the kitchen, before quietly acquiescing with a grunt. no argument.

another month passes without incident, bunta passing a full cup of water to takumi and watching him drive down the mountain each night, and he’s thinking maybe nothing will happen. maybe takumi won’t break the tofu ever again. that would be good for business and good for both of their health. but the idea makes bunta breathe deep from his cigarette and exhale a sigh.

he doesn’t know what he wants anymore or why. he doesn’t even want to think about it.

but then again, he doesn’t have to do a thing, doesn’t have to lift a finger, because eventually it does happen. too much schoolwork, he’ll remark later, sympathizing with his son.

takumi falls asleep at the wheel and nearly smashes into a guardrail. he wakes up just in time to avoid it, going too fast, and what ends up smashed instead is the tofu. the hotel managers are pissed that they aren’t getting their delivery, but these accidents happen rarely enough that the tofu shop gets another chance anyway. bunta’s tofu is special and so well-made that no one can replace it. takumi and bunta both know these things.

but one night of business lost is money down the drain, and bunta’s taking the opportunity to let loose on takumi for it. he looks at the back of the car, at the tofu bits he’ll have to clean, and at his son, who’s gazing between the ground and his father with wide eyes. takumi appears completely uninjured, but the possibility of what could have happened to him is enough to truly enrage bunta.

“takumi... look at what you did. i told you not to break the tofu again and you did it anyway.”

bunta doesn’t give a shit about the tofu. couldn’t possibly care less. he glowers at his son, before walking into the house, not needing to look back to know takumi will follow him, even sick with dread as he is. such a good boy.

not the living room. this time bunta walks all the way to his bedroom, pulls out all the supplies he has in his bedside drawer, then faces his son who stares pale-faced from the open door.

“o-old man. please— i’m sorry—“

“come here, takumi.”

he looks like a ball of anxiety, even stuttering like he did as a child, but bunta won’t allow him to explain or beg his way out of this one. he had promised takumi punishment last time and he plans on following through.

takumi takes one step inside and shuts the door behind him.

“come here,” bunta repeats quietly. 

he has nothing in his voice, no tension or heat or anything to show takumi the slightest hint of what he’s feeling. it’s bait. every child thinks that maybe it’s going to be okay if there’s no anger in it, but that’s not what this is about. anger. no, it’s about something much worse. love.

takumi looks at him, expression drawn inward, before moving towards bunta. towards his futon. he stands before it and stares and the house is dead silent.

bunta walks up to him, strength building up in his entire body, before he unleashes it in a backhand across takumi’s face. it sends him flying backwards onto the ground, messing up the neat order of pillows and blankets beneath him. takumi touches his lip, split and bleeding, and looks up at bunta with a look of hurt. now that he thinks about it, those big doe-eyes are like his mother’s too. they’re gorgeous. nothing like bunta’s hard squint.

he grabs takumi’s shoulders next, helping him up onto his feet in order to throw him into the wall. takumi crashes against it with a shout and falls back to the ground, groaning in pain. he starts trembling, eyes wet with barely held-back tears. takumi’s usually such a tough guy in comparison to his classmates - he can never get used to falling this low.

bunta kneels down to his level and watches the pain blossom all over his son’s face. it’s so satisfying to see that stoic expression fall away. takumi guards his body with his arms and looks up at him, right into his eyes, with fear.

“i’m sorry—“ takumi pauses to sniffle. “i won’t do it again, i’m sorry, please don’t—”

bunta grabs him by the neck and takumi flinches in shock, working up enough nerve to try and push him away unsuccessfully. takumi is still too small at 16 to fight him off and bunta is tall even for a grown man. bunta tightens his hand around his son’s neck until it looks uncomfortable, while making sure he can still breathe. takumi gasps for air, trying to peel his grip away, but to no effect.

“do you know what could’ve happened to you if you hadn’t woken up at just the right moment?” bunta growls right into his son’s face. 

he slams takumi’s head back against the wall again and again, barely able to restrain himself. 

“you could have /died/, you little shit. you have to be more careful. do you understand?”

takumi nods vigorously, unable to produce words and barely breathing. he looks like a mess, eyes red with tears, snot and spit running out of his swelling face, all tinged with blood. bunta stops the motion and loosens his fingers at the response, allowing takumi to gasp relieved breaths of air. he lifts his other hand to stroke takumi’s cheek gently.

“what would i have done if you died, huh? i’d have killed myself too.”

takumi looks at him like he never expected to hear such a thing come out of his father’s mouth and shrinks inward, feeling guilty.

bunta had wanted his son to learn how to drive akina fast, yes, and he had wanted the deliveries to be done efficiently, sure, but not at the cost of takumi’s life. just thinking that he could have lost his son is enough to make bunta‘s vision go red. why hadn’t takumi taken a nap before the delivery like he always did? why hadn’t he pulled over if he was tired? takumi needs to be punished for not valuing his own life enough, for not taking better care of himself, for not thinking about how much his father needs him.

bunta keeps his grip on takumi’s neck just tight enough and leans in close, slipping his tongue into takumi’s air-starved mouth with a violence that makes his son whimper. takumi knows things can only get worse if he tries to bite at bunta, so he just opens his mouth even wider in a display of frightened obedience. bunta takes advantage of it, devouring takumi’s mouth like a man starving. 

“it’s time for me to do what i told you i would do last time, son.”

takumi’s eyes are pleading at him ‘no, please don’t’ as he tries to shake his head at bunta through the grip his neck is in. but it’s all for nothing. every little thing takumi does just makes him more aroused - every terrified glance, every sob into his mouth.

“now, now. accept your punishment like a man.”

he releases the grip on takumi’s throat entirely and goes searching for his supplies, as takumi raises a hand to his throat and coughs weakly. there it is, the lubricant. very important; it’s going to get a lot of use soon, bunta thinks. he manhandles takumi to set him down on the futon before undoing his own belt and releasing himself from his trousers. then he does the same thing to takumi, removing his pants entirely and not bothering to respond to his shaky mumbling of ‘wait, what are you doing—?’

his son’s cock is much smaller than his. bunta lines them up in his hand until they’re touching and remembers that, yes, his must have been bigger even at the age takumi is now. takumi is small, he thinks. but it’s cute. he spreads lube all over the flesh in his hand, without regard to how cold it is making takumi shiver, and starts pumping them both in his hand together. he crowds takumi’s small body underneath him, listening to his son’s soft whines, and thinks that’s something else he must have gotten from his mother, being so adorable.

bunta’s grabs some lubricant and rubs at takumi’s asshole with his other hand, while the boy is distracted. immediately, takumi looks distressed even as he continues to thrust into bunta’s fist. he shakes his head with as much energy as he can muster, whispering ‘no, no, don’t—‘ over and over. it doesn’t sound very convincing, when his cock is leaking all over his father’s hand. 

bunta stops and moves away so that neither of them comes too early and just grips takumi’s dick as an extra preventative measure. takumi sounds disappointed despite himself, then pained, as he’s stretched out more than he’s ever experienced before. two fingers, then three, moving in and out slowly, rotating, stretching - before takumi’s discomfort starts to fade and a sudden moan escapes him when he’s thrust into. good enough.

out come bunta’s fingers and in goes his cock, pushing into the boy with discomfort on both sides. takumi is so tight, it actually hurts his dick. bunta waits silently, while takumi grits his teeth and grips at the blankets, trying to adjust. bunta thought he might struggle more, but takumi takes it motionless, as if already defeated. he seems to be remembering what he learned the last time he was punished, that he needs to relax. eventually his muscles loosen around bunta, and they both feel less pain.

takumi looks up at his father, panting, with an unreadable expression. does the kid even know whether he wants to stop or keep going? 

bunta thrusts experimentally a few times before quickly plunging all the way in, making takumi tighten up again. a stray tear falls from his eyes as he breathes in harshly.

“you need to touch yourself too,” bunta reminds him. 

it seems to have slipped his son’s mind somehow that that would help him relax. takumi’s hand slips down between their bodies and takes his own cock, jerking it slowly. bunta thrusts into him at a similar pace, almost gentle as takumi finally starts to relax, before gripping his thighs and fucking him at a furious pace.

takumi startles, saying “wait, slow down—“, while jerking himself off faster with a gasp. bunta licks at his face and kisses him open-mouthed, thrusting his tongue in and out in much the same way his hips are doing. the way takumi’s muscles clench around him mean he’ll come soon. 

bunta presses his face into takumi’s neck and breathes him in, tastes him, sucks the soft skin into his mouth and bites at it. no different than ever, that’s why it’s so endearing. smells like his son. warm and sweet.

bunta feels pride at making takumi enjoy his humiliation. the last shreds of his son’s resistance are finally gone. takumi’s legs wrap around his father’s waist for better access and his voice... he’s getting loud. bunta didn’t expect that. 

takumi’s usually so quiet but the moment he gets fucked, he moans non-stop, ‘ah, ah, ah—‘, like a slut. his mother was like that too. maybe the boy has more in common with her than bunta thought. but no, takumi has so much of him, the same lean face, same rough hands, his hair parts the same way, he likes the same cars, and his cock is sensitive in the same places—

“takumi. you’re my little boy.” bunta sighs. mine, mine, mine.

“ahh— goddamnit— you shitty old man—“ takumi’s eyes shut tight, as he cries out thrusting back onto bunta’s cock and into his own fist. 

“i love you,” bunta says, as he kisses at takumi’s gasping mouth. he never says it out loud, but it’s dragged out of him in moments like these. takumi’s ass clenches around him so wonderfully and he can’t last, he pants and comes buried deep in his son’s insides.

bunta doesn’t get off takumi immediately, like he knows he should. he can’t stop kissing his son’s neck. he practically lies down on top of takumi, who complains that he’s too heavy. the contact makes him remember wrestling with takumi when he was a little kid and how they haven’t done that in years. he misses it on some level, but takumi is too old for it. not for this, though.

“you should be more respectful.” he whispers into takumi’s ear. “why don’t you call me papa anymore?”

even exhausted out of his mind and beaten to shit, takumi still has the energy to look cross with him. typical.

“saying ‘papa’ is for little kids... don’t tell me you want me to call you ‘otou-chan’ too?“

bunta grips takumi’s shoulders at that, hard. he may not be young anymore, but let no one say he can’t get it up again when he just has.

“call me that again, and i’ll take it easy on you for the next few rounds.”

“n-next /few/?”

“that’s right.”

bunta will make sure his son takes his full punishment. that he‘ll end up even begging for it. after all, his papa loves him and just wants to keep him safe. 

they can talk about the details of that later, while he kisses at the bruises darkening takumi’s body.


	3. stupor

“old man?”

“yes?”

seated on his cushion, bunta turns a page of his newspaper while takumi stands at the door, thoughtful.

“do you... really love me?”

that makes bunta look up. even now, he hesitates to say /yes/ when it’s so obvious and so embarrassing. he only says those words when he can’t control himself anymore, when it’s the only thing inside his head. until that happens, takumi won’t get a peep out of him.

“where is this coming from all of a sudden?” he asks instead.

takumi stares at the floor.

“...

it’s nothing.”

he leaves up the stairs without looking back and without another word.

bunta thinks about the question. he’s done a lot of things for his son that any loving father would do. and a lot of things that no one should ever do to a child. if takumi suspects his father doesn’t love him, is it because of the way bunta hurts him?

he would be wrong about that. bunta doesn’t hurt people that he doesn’t care about, he just ignores them. and he never ignores his son.

it’s just that love isn’t always a good thing. love isn’t always kind or beautiful, like in romance movies. love can lead people to commit atrocities. perhaps takumi is too young, naive, and idealistic to know this yet, but it’s something he‘ll have to learn in time.

he’s already starting to. love is what gets takumi suspended from school for a week and kicked off the soccer club. he barely responds when bunta asks, but he explains that an upperclassman was saying horrible things about a lady friend of his in the locker room. the boy blacked out, angry, and came to his senses with blood sprayed on his fist. no surprise there. he always got surprisingly strong when he finally felt emotional.

takumi seems to expect a scolding, peeking at his father quietly through his eyelashes - then says he’ll go to the clinic to get his hand checked out when the nagging doesn’t come. but there’s no need. bunta takes his son’s bloody-knuckled hand and washes it with a cloth and clean water. the fingers all move normally and nothing’s broken except the skin, thankfully.

next comes the antibacterial ointment, which makes his son hiss and wiggle around with pain. once the wounds are clean and dry, he wraps gauze around takumi’s knuckles and makes sure it stays in place.

bunta holds takumi’s hand in both of his. he’s finished treating it, but it feels wrong to just let it go. takumi watches him, looking annoyed as bunta gives the gauze a kiss. his son had hurt someone with this hand in order to defend someone innocent... of course bunta had no plans of scolding him, he couldn’t be more proud.

“you don’t have to do that, i’m too old for it.”

he had wanted to though. the man almost laughs - takumi asks bunta if he loves him, then gets annoyed when his father shows him that he does. typical. maybe he would just have to show him more often, though he doubts takumi will be able to appreciate it. bunta is always loving him, always showing it, so it’s amusing to him that takumi had asked at all.

“why don’t you stand up then, and i’ll give you something more age-appropriate.” bunta says it with a grin, but he’s serious. takumi rises to his feet warily, while bunta stays sitting on his cushion. 

“right. come closer.”

takumi steps forward until he’s standing right in front of his kneeling father and his expression doesn’t look like he’s anticipating anything pleasant. he looks like he’s expecting a beating. does it matter? bunta thinks they’re both affectionate coming from him, but it gives him pause that takumi never expects anything ‘nice’ from his father. he should be ready for anything.

bunta’s hands go to unbutton takumi’s pants and unzip him when his son goes wide-eyed and is caught off guard enough to take a step back. 

“wait, are you seriously—?”

bunta grabs his son and pulls him forward again, hand dipping below his boxers to pull out his cock.

“if you’re too old for me to kiss your hurts better, then let me do something else.”

bunta stares at takumi’s dick and strokes it with his thumb slowly, the attention making it thicken. it’s always growing just a little bigger as his son ages, but it’s still small in bunta’s eyes. he kisses the head, and mouths his way down the shaft, turning his head to suck at the veiny underside, right as takumi thrusts at his face. cute.

he thinks it‘s probably strange to feel emotional about this, but bunta’s heart clenches with his son’s dick on his face. it’s nothing he’s never seen before after changing the boy’s diapers, among other things, but bunta rarely feels this way; he would even nuzzle it if that wouldn’t make him look too soft. instead, he takes it into his mouth as far as it’ll go, right until it hits the back of his throat.

takumi fills his father’s mouth, careful not to thrust too hard. the boy is pretty obviously inexperienced. he’s too careful, so much so that he’s holding back, and it’s not enough feeling, not enough pleasure - not for either of them. it pisses bunta off. he slides his mouth off to speak, aware there’s drool dripping all over his chin.

“takumi, it’s my turn to ask. do /you/ love me?”

takumi looks at him with his eyes blown wide and dark and his lips parted and panting. he nods.

“well... of course i do...”

his words are more hesitant than the his body is. bunta expected that. either way, takumi is much more generous with his words than his father has ever been.

“if you love me, then make me choke, takumi.”

“what? why?”

“love shouldn’t be painful; is that what you‘re thinking?” bunta says. “but that’s how it is with me.“

“you like it rough?” takumi asks. he’s so simple but direct.

bunta breathes a sigh. 

“that’s why i’m so rough with you.” 

it’s as close to an ‘i love you’ as he’ll give while conscious of himself. takumi’s eyes are bright with realization now, and bunta almost feels embarrassed at saying anything. this must be what he gets for feeling sappy over a blowjob.

it hits him then that they’ve been out of sync all this time. it makes sense. after all, how was takumi supposed to understand his father’s love language when he had no translation? but now, he knows what the man’s actions mean. bunta wonders how he had never thought of it before.

he huffs a little. “c’mon already.”

bunta’s throat gets used like a sex toy after that, takumi’s hands pulling bunta around by the hair, up and down his son’s cock. bunta’s content to have corrected the boy’s behavior and give him as much pleasure as he’ll take. takumi’s not used to fucking anything except his own hand, bunta’s sure, so he quickly becomes overwhelmed. the sounds that escape his son’s throat make bunta so hard in his pants that it hurts, but he‘s so focused that he forgets to touch himself.

“let me help you,” takumi says.

he puts a hand on bunta’s head to stay balanced and sticks out his socked foot, grinding it onto his father’s erection. the contact is still not enough, he wants more. bunta thrusts his hips up into his son’s foot as it crushes his dick like an insect.

“does it feel good?”

it does; bunta hums around the cock fucking his mouth, unable to say a word. it hurts and it’s so good, he can’t hold out much longer. 

“old man— ah— i’m going to—“

that’s all the warning he needs. takumi’s cock twitches as he buries himself as deep and fast as he can into bunta’s mouth, spilling hot down his father’s throat. it’s too much - bunta is forced to release takumi’s dick from his mouth to cough up cum, getting spurts of it all over his face. the pain of his throat and takumi’s step grinding down punishingly hard on his father’s cock makes bunta finish in his pants.

they both breathe harshly afterward, bunta still coughing into his hand, having gotten what he asked for. takumi still has the generosity to ask his father if he’s okay, to which bunta responds that he very much is, while holding his sore throat. bunta can feel takumi’s love in that ache he’s caused, that passion that radiates from his whole body - from the pressure of his foot to the tugging of his hand. 

it’s the same thing that burns inside of bunta. there’s no way the man could ever refuse it.


End file.
